A Letter from the Coronavirus Inside Donald Trump
You guys have no idea what I’m going through right now: I am the molecule of COVID-19 that bravely chose to infect the president.
I got in a lot of trouble for this, you guys. It was a big risk. Everybody told me I shouldn’t do it. Hell, even I knew I shouldn’t do it.
When it comes to the battle of Coronaviri and our plight for world domination, taking out Donald Trump has absolutely no strategic benefit. The man helps us, a major ally. He even hosts superspreader events, forces you to go back to work at grungy 7–11s where we camp out all day, and frees us from the barrier of our enemy’s most successful tool, the mask.
Donald Trump has aided and abetted our domination campaign, and we literally owe him so much. We wouldn’t be where we are without him, 215,000 hosts and going strong, no signs of our spread slowing down.
A shockingly large quantity of this success is a direct result of Donald Trump.
But I saw the debate the other night, and I seriously cannot stand this fucking guy one second more.
Honestly, you guys have been so focused on me, I didn’t even think to notice how you’re doing. Other than (understandably) being in a state of constant peril due to current events. Hey, remember, I’m new here.
I am so… genuinely sorry for everything I’ve done to you. You clearly have enough going on right now. Jesus Christ. How do you do this?
I, unlike you, am fresh off a spree of killings. Our debut in the United States has been a massacre. Right now, we’re winning, and a lot of it’s thanks to this guy. But holy shit, I do not fucking care. I cannot do this one millisecond more.
That voice. The frenzied screaming. The budding despotry in live-action. There is only one despot here, and as one to another, Jesus Christ my dude…